


Star Patients

by SynCerise



Category: Kildaireverse, Original Work
Genre: Anal Plug, Being kept, Bladder Control, Bondage, Breast Expansion, CVT (Clit and Vulva Torture), Cervix Fucking, Clit Inflation, Clit Injection, Corruption, Dacryphilia, Edging, Enemas, Forniphilia, Hospital Setting, Inflation, Lactation, M/M, Medical Kink, Medical Restraints, Nipple Penetration, Nipple Torture, Orgasm Control, Ovi Training, Oviposition, Restraints, Slow Burn Transformation, Sounding, Spooky Scimagic, Succubi & Incubi, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacles, Trans Male PoV, Transformation, Uterine Inflation, Verbal Restraints, Victorian setting, consensual extreme kink, gaping, genital suction, goo, kinky punishment, mild feeding kink, naughty concubi get fed to the tentacula, paralysis kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 05:39:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SynCerise/pseuds/SynCerise
Summary: Nicholas has been in and out of behavioural health wings of hospitals for a few weeks following a bad breakup, and finally gets a referral to residential inpatient; but Dr Kildaire, the head of the hospital, is... unlike any other doctor Nicholas has ever met--and his methods are queerly erotic. How does he do what he does? What is the significance of the third floor? And how, Nicholas wants to know, does this hospitalget away with it?





	1. Intake

**Author's Note:**

> Semi-autobiographical wish-fulfillment. Not sorry. Enjoy with me if you like, hit 'back' if you don't. Let me know if you liked, don't let me know what you didn't like.

# Chapter One: Intake

First, they led Nicholas into the exam room. He stripped down as requested, a little nervous, as the nurse attending was a very beautiful man just his type, named Simon. But Simon was all kindness, and ran hands along his body. Nicholas didn’t ask why, assuming it was to look after his general health at intake. Simon had already taken his blood pressure and asked him to breathe.

Still, Nicholas hadn’t had a man like Simon touch him so gently, or speak so kindly to him; and his cunt was making very clear that it had been a long while since Nicholas had any attention to it from another person.

‘You’re a wonderful candidate,’ Simon said. ‘That sounds cold, doesn’t it? I’m sorry.’

‘No, you’re fine,’ Nicholas said automatically, not knowing what else to say. It didn’t bother him. ‘I’m just glad to not be in a homeless shelter or, like, dead.’

‘Well,’ Simon said, still gently, with no trace of pity or disdain, ‘I know we just met, but I’m glad you’re not those places either.’ He gestured to the exam table. ‘Have you ever had a pelvic exam?’

‘Oh, yeah, once. For my top surgery,’ Nicholas said, hopping up on the table. He didn’t want to sound too enthusiastic. ‘It doesn’t bother me at all, I think it’s neat.’

‘Thank god for that,’ Simon said, hiding a chuckle as he went to get down the supplies.

‘You need blood and urine too?’

‘Yes, but we can get those later,’ Simon reassured him, pulling out the stirrups and gently guiding Nicholas into them.

Nicholas tried not to ask, proudly, if his cunt was the prettiest cunt Simon had ever seen. For all he knew, Simon found cunts repulsive. But from how gently and yet not gingerly Simon was examining him, this wasn’t the case. Nicholas knew he shouldn’t be thinking of sex in a doctor’s office like this, but he couldn’t really help himself. And it wasn’t just because a gorgeous gay man was examining him and not being awkward about his gender.

Once the speculum was in, it felt so good. Simon clicked it wider, and Nicholas tried not to noise as gloved fingertips very _thoroughly_ examined his clit, checking under the hood. He expected it to end there, but the stirrups lifted higher and he felt warm lube on his anus, and he wasn’t sure how but he was suddenly flushed and aroused enough that his anus opened with no pain at all, stretched and spread.

Simon smiled to himself, as the anus responded perfectly to the medicated lube. Perfect candidate, indeed… Dr Kildaire would be so pleased with this  result, Nicholas was still and cooperative and got aroused with examinations… they’d been looking for someone like this forever. Rowena was a perfect candidate too, as was Yvelle, but they weren’t transmen. Simon clicked the anal speculum wider, and applied more of the lubricant. The anus relaxed still further, and Simon clicked it a little wider, alternating with applications of lube until the anus was big enough to allow him to insert the suppository, and the retention plug that would keep  Nicholas stretched. 

Nicholas wasn’t sure what was being done, but he didn’t want to protest or ask, because it felt so good and he was always so afraid of creeping medical professionals out by insisting that medical procedures felt sexy because he had a kink. Obviously, you didn’t tell people that.

‘Full?’ Simon asked quietly.

Nicholas swallowed a whimper at the tone in that voice—or maybe it was just his perception, probably. ‘Yes,’ Nicholas said, breathless.

‘Good,’ Simon said. ‘That will get you ready for the enema.’ Clients were warned about the enema before coming, but Simon was still prepared for argument.

‘Yes,’ Nicholas said again, not sure how else to answer. He couldn’t very well say _Oh yes, please, please give me a huge warm enema that makes my tummy bulge out and then plug me up, that sounds amazing, please._

Simon stood, stripping off the gloves. ‘I need to fetch Doctor Kildaire,’ he said. ‘Are you warm enough?’

‘Yes,’ Nicholas said again, unsure if he could manage any other word, right now.

‘Doctor Kildaire will just be a moment, don’t fret,’ Simon said kindly, and left the room. It was only a few minutes, by the clock on the wall, when the door was tapped and then opened again, revealing a tall and gorgeous red-haired man with silvery temples and sparkling blue eyes. His hair was pulled back in a queue and he had a neat little beard that perfectly suited a doctor. His hands were long and pretty, and while he wasn’t made-up and camp like Simon, he nevertheless felt as profoundly gay, to Nicholas. Under his white coat, he was wearing an old-fashioned suit, minus the coat, in chocolate brown.

‘Hello, Nicholas,’ he said, as he pulled on gloves.

‘Hi,’ Nicholas said, suddenly shy.

‘Simon wanted me to see you because you’re so good a candidate for the program,’ Dr Kildaire explained as he pulled up the stool between Nicholas’ spread thighs. Nicholas felt gentle hands moving his labia aside, examining his clit. ‘I see what you meant, Simon. Nicholas, how long have you had clitoromegaly? Your whole life, or just when you were on T for that short period you mentioned in your forms?’

‘Since puberty, I think,’ Nicholas said, working hard to keep his voice steady.

‘Extraordinary,’ Kildaire murmured, and Nicholas tried not to shiver, feeling tingly at being called that. ‘And you mentioned feeling you were a poor candidate for traditional bottom surgery?’

‘Well, I was midly curious about a clit release for a while,’ Nicholas admitted, ‘but I’m so scared to let a surgeon near my genitals, or risk… like, what if I lose feeling? What if something like that happens? Every time I have a surgery I end up with weird nerve damage for the rest of forever, you know?’

‘I do,’ Kildaire replied, all sympathy. ‘You said you weren’t afraid of needles?’

‘Oh, no, no,’ Nicholas said, a little too enthusiastically. ‘Needles are fine,’ he said, trying to rein himself in.

‘What about near your genitals?’

‘I was thinking a lot about getting piercings there someday,’ Nicholas answered, laughing weakly. What were they planning? Infusion? Oh god, please, let it be an infusion of saline or something…. ‘Why?’

‘I may be able to enlarge your clitoris further, if you wish. We’ll note it in your chart for future, after the initial procedures are done, okay?’

‘Okay!’ Nicholas said, with such enthusiasm that Kildaire chuckled as he got up. He spoke in a low voice to Simon, but Nicholas heard enough to understand they were moving him to a different room, on a different floor. After he’d left, Simon came back over to the table.

‘I’m going to get a urine sample with a catheter. I’m very good at this, don’t worry.’

‘Well I’m glad I got the nurse who’s good at them,’ Nicholas said, and Simon gave him a smile.

‘You’re such a cheerful patient, Nicholas,’ he said approvingly.

The catheter felt weird, but it was warm and smooth and didn’t hurt at all, going in very gently, and then suddenly the pressure was easing, weird (and, Nicholas thought, unspeakably erotic) without the noise or feeling of the urine leaving Nicholas’ body the usual way. There was the sound of a jar closing, and then the tiny clicks of a clamp.

‘We’re going to leave this in you, alright?’ Simon said. ‘We’ll need it throughout treatment, so it’s easier on you this way.’

‘That’s fine.’ Oh dear heaven, a constant catheter. Would they control his bladder like this, make him able to relieve himself only twice a day? The idea was thrilling.

The speculum was removed from his vagina, and the stirrups were lowered. Simon helped him sit up.

‘How are you feeling, dove?’ he asked gently, holding Nicholas’ hand. ‘Do you think you can stand and walk to your room with me by your side?’

‘Yes,’ Nicholas said, eager to prove it, to see what torment he would suffer for it.

Simon helped the man to his feet, and  watched as Nicholas walked carefully toward the door. The catheter anchored inside him was locked, not attached to a bag, which meant his bladder would have no way of emptying without someone unlocking it. From how much water they pressed the patients to drink, this would cause distress in a very short period. Simon had a feeling Nicholas would enjoy that; you got a way of knowing these things, after working with Dr Kildaire for so many years, seeing so many patients come and go. 

Every step, the thing inside  Nicholas’ ass would rub deliciously, push and shift, and his anus felt stretched and tingly; not bruisy, but pleasantly flushed. The catheter just felt deliciously invasive, he wondered how he was supposed to sit down. Maybe he  _wasn’t_ supposed to sit down, maybe he was only supposed to lie down…. 

They went to an elevator, and to the third floor.

‘You’ll be staying in unit three, with Rowena, Jasper, and Yvelle,’ Simon said, ‘Rowena is a dfab demigirl who goes by she, Yvelle is a ciswoman who goes by she, and Jasper is a cisman who goes by he. They like people to know,’ he added. ‘You won’t have to deal with anybody’s visitors, either, this is a private wing.’

‘So are we all queer up here?’ 

‘We are,’ Simon said, smiling. ‘This is my floor, and you’ll be my patient, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.’

‘Oh, neat,’ Nicholas said, and Simon noted he sounded a little breathless. Was Simon his type? What a sweet little thing he was! Of course, Simon had asked to be assigned to him immediately—there hadn’t been a patient in Simon’s unit that was _his_ type, yet; Nicholas was the first, a soft boy with a sensitive mouth and a baby face, not too butch, but not fluttery with youth either, and plenty of hips, just enough tummy to be adorable….

W hen they got out of the elevator,  contrary to the lower floor, which had been fully remodelled, the third floor looked like the original house the hospital was ; the floor was carpeted and plush against Nicholas’ bare feet, and the walls had wallpaper that looked new. The windows were cantilevered, with flawless screens, open to catch the breeze. There were lightwells on the ceiling every few yards,  not that they were catching any light just now, as it was the middle of the night. 

T hey passed doors that had plaques on them: Rowena Q., Yvelle H., Jasper K. They were metal, obviously these three were permanent residents, which was exciting to think about. The s tability, the safety, of being allowed to stay as long as you wanted—the fact that the paperwork had talked about the ‘commitment to long-term  residence in the Kildaire Institute’—!  Nicholas had not just checked the box for that, he’d filled the square entirely in. 

Next to Jasper’s room, the door had ‘Nicholas D.’ in a nice font on a piece of card, right where the other plaques were. Nicholas immediately determined he’d earn a permanent plaque.

Simon keyed open the door.

‘There aren’t bed checks,’ he said to Nicholas, as he led him into the room. ‘Just say good night and good morning when you go to bed and wake up in the morning.’

The room was  dark in a relaxing way, with deep purple wall paper, dark floor s of smooth wood and moulding that shone with fresh polish. The bed was a platform, and looked comfortable, with a curtain hung around it from the ceiling  ( now, pulled back ) dressed with a plush comforter and dark purple sheets, and plenty of pillows. Beside it was a table with a light and a clock. The table had a drawer and an open shelf beneath. Across from the bed was an armoire, and then a little sunken area, enclosed with a low marble railing with fat columns, that had a clawfoot bath in it. 

The bath tub basin was rosy pink, and huge, with  rose-gold taps, scrolling feet, and a handshower. There was also a  matching pedestal sink,  a mirror with a cabinet  on either side , towel rods , and a bidet, but no toilet. A bookshelf and a desk, both empty, were on the other wall, farthest from the corner with the bath. There was a small balcony  that looked over a spectacular view of the shore (even if the railing was supplemented by wrought metal mesh that looked like fancy chickenwire, to keep him from, Nicholas presumed, jumping off of said balcony. Still, it was better than other hospitals, which simply didn’t let you go outside at all). 

I t looked like some kind of  fancy  hotel room. Nicholas had been in and out of hospitals and other mental health services that (badly) replaced asylums a lot in the past  month , and they were always spartan to the point of being depressing, with windows that didn’t open and certainly nothing you could move around or anywhere to sit other than the bed. Never enough pillows either. 

‘Are you sure this is _free_?’  Nicholas asked, in awe and a little afraid it was a trick, that it would cost money he didn’t have.

‘That you’re willing to submit to the procedures, and willing to consider further ones, is enough. There are, as you can see, very few people that are willing and able to be on the third floor. Your things have been unpacked and folded.’

‘Thanks,’ Nicholas said numbly, still stunned.

‘The library and social parlour is at the end of the hall. That also has the nurse station. Pull the cord here by your bed if you need anything. I’ll be your nurse for your entire stay—and you won’t have to share me. Doctor Kildaire likes to keep things consistent and allow for the building of trust between us. You’ll see him at least once a day, and you’ll see me more often. All we ask is that you don’t talk to the staff wearing black—they’re going to be bringing your meals and doing the housekeeping. They are not medically trained. If the library doesn’t have books you want, just ask one of us and we’ll get the book for you.’

‘What’s the library got, mostly?’

‘Oh, lots of novels. Rowena likes to print and bind fanfiction as well, so some of the books are hand-made. Jasper likes mysteries and fantasy, and Yvelle has a lot of coffee table books and lots of sheet music. You don’t mind music, do you? She’s playing the piano most of the time she’s in here.’

‘I don’t mind at all,’ Nicholas said. ‘Is there a tv?’

‘We have a tv night three times a week—four now, with you being here. We like to give everyone a turn. You can pick one movie or up to three episodes of a tv show, when it’s your turn. I think your turn should be tomorrow night. We have netflix, but not hulu—Doctor Kildaire prefers not to expose patients to any psychological manipulation, such as advertising. You aren’t allowed magazines for that reason, and that’s also why internet access is extremely limited to wikipedia and other adfree sites. If you want to buy things from an online merchant, let us know and you can have private shopping time supervised by your nerse—me, for you.’

‘Cool,’ Nicholas said, finding his stuffed pegasus in the drawer with his socks and underwear, and putting her on the bed.

‘Your enema will be at six in the morning; would you like to answer the door, or would you prefer I came in while you were sleeping?’

‘Um,’ Nicholas said, forcing himself to think. Simon was a very gentle, very English presence, as different from anyone nerve-wracking as Nicholas could imagine. And this room was so friendly and safe. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I think you can come in even if I’m sleeping.’

‘Alright. Breakfast is served until ten,’ Simon said. ‘If you want a book to read before bed, I can escort you to the library before we lock you in for the night?’

‘Oh, you lock us in?’

‘Yes,’ Simon said, obviously waiting for him to protest, but not assuming he would—that latter was a nice change from what Nicholas was used to.

‘Well that’s nicer than bed-checks or insisting the door stay open,’ Nicholas said thoughtfully. Simon smiled.

‘You’re not meant to feel like a prisoner, here,’ he reassured Nicholas, ‘or like we don’t trust you.’

‘Even if I have a history of suicide attempts?’

‘Even if,’ Simon said with a firm nod. ‘Are you feeling suicidal now?’

‘No,’ Nicholas said, ‘I would if I got discharged, is the thing.’

‘Well we don’t discharge people,’ Simon said, and Nicholas smiled.

‘That’s a little ominous.’

‘Is it?’ Simon said, but he was grinning.

‘Any chance I could have that enema before bed, like, right now?’ He could still feel the suppository, but he wanted more, becaue he could feel his body getting used to it.

Oh, he  _was_ eager! Simon was delighted at this. ‘Unfortunately, no,’ he said, genuinely apologetic. ‘I’d love to, but the suppository has to absorb completely.’

‘Well, I’m really tired, so I’m going to just go to bed right away.’

‘Goodnight then. See you in the morning.’

Nicholas made his way around the room. To the armoire again, where he found not only the clothes he had in his bags, but also a plush  pink  bathrobe,  slippers, and more compression hose like the kind he’d gotten at the hospital,  only they were crotchless pantyhose, exactly the kind he’d been looking for. 

The bathroom cabinet had a full compliment of grooming tools, which was a pleasant surprise. A razor, electric clippers, and someone had put his toiletries in here. Had they called and gotten his things from his abusive ex? Nicholas knew he hadn’t packed his own safety razor, or his big bottle of aloe.

-

When Simon came back in the room in the grey light of dawn, it was to see that Nicholas had happily fallen asleep in the bed.

Nicholas awoke to warmth pushing into his anus, and held still, remembering immediately that it was, must be, the enema. If he pretended to stay asleep, maybe he could enjoy it more. He felt the fluid start flowing into him,  and found meditative breathing to suddenly come easily. 

Simon sat in the chair by the bed and began to read, looking up every so often to monitor the enema machine, see that the flow was going as it should. There was no need to watch the belly swell, as fun as that was, if Nicholas could stay asleep—or, Simon thought wryly, _pretend_ to—through the initial fill. It was only a litre, but that felt like a lot to a first-timer. When it was finished, he inflated the plug and unlocked the urethral catheter, emptying it. Simon wanted badly to fill that little bladder until it bulged, but Nicholas wasn’t ready for that, yet; they would only lock him up for now, empty him twice a day while encouraging him to drink as much as possible.

Simon was so glad to have his own patient now—and such a soft, sweet boy too.  Nicholas ha d filled out his paperwork in cursive that was obviously well-practised, and had been very candid about how he’d just left emotional abuse that had lasted the past eleven years.  Privately, Simon determined to make him feel welcome. He knew the others on the third floor would do their part, of course—Rowena most of all, sweet child she was.

Simon left the enema for fifteen minutes, then had the machine drain it out, and put in another, larger suppository, a slightly bigger plug. The constant dosing would help his body prepare for the rather extreme changes its genitalia were about to go through.

-

‘Simon, good morning.’

‘Good morning, sir.’ Simon took his place around the little conference table, where Doctor Kildaire and the three other nurses for the three other patients were sitting, most of them still drinking their morning tea or coffee. ‘Morning everyone.’

Answering ‘morning’s were murmured—or, in the case of some, returned cheerfully.

‘What’s Nicholas like?’ Rowena’s nurse, Fawn, asked.

‘So far, he’s still a little awe-struck. If I’m not very much mistaken, I think he has a medical kink—or else he’s just very attracted to me.’ Simon’s tone was warm and curled in pleasure, as did his lips.

Kildaire smirked, his tail curling. ‘Both, Simon, well-spotted.  Did he wake for his enema?’

‘I think he _pretended_ not to,’ Simon said, with a mischievous sing-song to his normally very lilting voice. 


	2. Breakfast

#  Chapter Two: Breakfast 

Nicholas woke up when Simon left the room, and lay in bed for a while, feeling empty and wishing he’d had more time with the enema. He wondered if he’d ever get bigger ones, longer times with them inside. This one had seemed big, and after fifteen minutes he felt such heavy urgency, trapped and almost starting to twitch. Now, however, he just felt empty—and hungry. 

He got up, and carefully got dressed, and experimentally walked around his room. There was something inside him again, he remembered feeling something get pushed inside before the plug got worked in. Was this one bigger? It felt bigger. Maybe he’d just shrunk while the enema was being administered…. 

He looked longingly at the bath, but his tummy needed filling—with food—first. He left his room, made his way down the hall to the open archway that must be the day room. He tried not to gape at the richness of the furnishings. Two stories of oak bookshelves lined the walls, with ladders in brass railings. There were very few places to sit, but then again there were only four people here, so they only needed a few places. 

All three of his floor-mates were at the round table in a sunroom beyond a further door, eating breakfast off of what looked like very nice china. It was black, the edges in scrolling curves and gilded flourishes, the silverware also gold, but not garish, and cloth napkins of a sumptuous sangoire. 

There was a chair, and a place, set for him. The others around the table were dressed… very nicely. Nicer than him. Nicholas took a seat and tried not to think about how he was wearing ratty black sweatpants he’d cut the ankle elastic off of, and an old tanktop. It _was_ morning, though, he comforted himself. 

He sat down, looking over the serving dishes. There was some tasty-looking quiche, plenty of toast, a platter of thick bacon, a huge fruit salad, carafes of juice, milk, coffee, and tea, piles of fresh waffles and toppings for them… the only things missing, Nicholas realised, were the standards that he’d come to expect: cereal and pancakes and plain scrambled eggs or omelets. He didn’t miss them, and got some quiche lorraine and bacon. 

‘Good morning,’ said one of the occupants, sipping her tea. ‘I’m Rowena, she-her. You must be Nicholas?’ She had a pretty voice, and was wearing a dark blue and ruffly, Victorian-style dress that her large breasts were nearly bursting out of. The skin of them was so taut you could see the veins pressing slightly against the flushed skin. Nicholas didn’t have to try not to stare, he just noticed breasts a lot because he was a transman, and his had plagued his life since the age of eight, and only recently had stopped doing so. He liked how hers looked, the skin all stretched like that; they must have felt amazing. 

‘Yes. He-him,’ said Nicholas. There were two coffee pots on the table, one was orange. He was tempted, especially when he saw the creamer full of what looked like real cream in the bowl of ice. ‘Is this half and half?’ he asked, of the creamer. 

‘No, it’s cream,’ said the other person with breasts at the table. She was fatter than Rowena, but her breasts were smaller and not nearly so taut. She looked as pregnant as Rowena, though, and was drinking a teacup full of black coffee. ‘There’s a half-caf and the orange is swiss water process—no caffeine at all. I’m Yvelle, but everyone calls me Yve. She-her.’ 

‘Could I have the orange pitcher then?’ Nicholas asked, and she passed it to him. 

‘I’m Jasper,’ said the last of his new floormates. ‘He-him.’ He looked about Yvelle’s age, older than Nicholas, with a neat haircut sleek with brylcreem and silvery-white at his temples, star-streaks in the black of the rest. ‘You have Simon?’ 

‘Yes,’ Nicholas said. 

‘Simon’s the _best_ ,’ Jasper said, with enthusiasm that lilted and came with a pat to Nicholas’ arm. ‘You’ll _love_ him.’ 

‘His contouring is amazing,’ Nicholas agreed, glad for the acceptance of another cisgay man. ‘And his nails. I wish I could look like that.’ 

‘You can ask him to help—you _should_ ask him to help, darling,’ Jasper said, stirring sugar into his cup of tea. ‘Lord knows he’d _adore_ having a sweet baby gay like you to teach. I’m too butch for that sort of thing, me.’ 

He didn’t seem all that butch, but Nicholas understood what he meant. ‘I feel underdressed. I didn’t know there was, um, like, garb, here.’ 

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Rowena said, cheerfully. Already, Nicholas was pleasantly reminded of Snow White, ‘you’ll be getting clothes soon too. They just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, not having your own clothes when everything else is so new and strange.’ 

‘That’s… astonishingly aware of them.’ 

Yvelle gave a smoker’s laugh, which Nicholas always thought was pretty. ‘Been to hospitals, this one. Took away everything, did they? Doctor Kildaire hates that,’ she said. ‘Take away all someone’s coping mechanisms and their routine, and expect them to get better or remain better on the outside? No darling, none of that here.’ 

‘The only thing they take away is your cigarettes,’ Jasper said beatifically. Yvelle made a face at him. 

‘Asshole,’ she said fondly. ‘But I don’t mind anymore, really,’ she added, to Nicholas. ‘They didn’t make me go cold turkey, they weaned me off. So,’ she said, and poured him a glass of water, sliding it over. ‘You should have lots of water, Nick.’ 

The way she said it, the knowing way she flared those green eyes, made Nicholas flush and want to squirm. He meekly took the water. 

‘It’s okay to talk about sex things here,’ Rowena said, a little quietly but no more shy. She lifted her voice a little more confidently. ‘For example, I am going to have some time with my milking pump after breakfast, and I am looking forward to that because I have a _big_ kink for that sort of thing. How about you, Jasper? Why don’t you tell Nicholas about what you’re doing?’ 

‘Ask if he’s comfortable, first,’ Jasper said gently. 

‘Oh, I am,’ Nicholas said, ‘She was right to assure me, I’ve been… you know hospitals. No sex, no politics, nothing but cheerful, empty subjects in the common room.’ 

‘This is all sex,’ Yvelle said. ‘Well, kink anyway. If you happen to have a specific set of kinks. We do.’ She dipped her bread into the leavings of whatever it was she’d been eating; Nicholas hadn’t been able to recognise it when he’d come in, but something with gravy. 

‘I’m getting a saline infusion after breakfast,’ Jasper said. ‘To my purse.’ 

‘Scrotum, you mean,’ Yvelle teased. 

‘It’s an ugly word for a lovely body part and I refuse to use it. Doctor Kildaire lets me say purse, because I keep valuables in it.’ 

Nicholas hid a giggle, in case that wasn’t a laughing matter. But Jasper smiled at him, and the others were laughing, so it was okay. ‘I like purse too,’ Nicholas said. ‘That sounds really nice. What about you, Yve?’ 

She leaned back, patting her belly. ‘What do you think this is, Nick?’ 

Nicholas immediately questioned his assumption that it was a baby—but the only other possibility made his clit _leap_ to attention. It seemed impossible, it _had_ to be impossible… ‘It’s… not pregnancy, is it?’ 

‘Not a bit of it,’ Yve said, proudly. ‘This here is how much enema I can hold, plus breakfast of course. You thought Rowena was preggers too, didn’tcha?’ 

‘Oh, god,’ Nicholas breathed. 

‘Oh, he’s going to do _splendidly_ ,’ Rowena said, with great delight. ‘Do you want an infusion too, Nicholas? Or maybe some nice weights clipped to you?’ 

Nicholas appreciated that her phrasing didn’t assume his genitalia. He tried to be as open as he was on the internet, as open as these friendly people were being. ‘I have a catheter in, and I… hope that they use it to fill me up,’ he tried, feeling hot around the ears and cheeks, unable to make eye contact. 

‘That’s a grand start,’ Rowena said encouragingly. ‘That’s how I started. First they’ll just let you fill yourself up—unless you ask, of course,’ she added, thoughtfully. ‘You could ask, I suppose.’ 

‘You can ask for anything,’ Jasper agreed. ‘If you’re on this floor, you’re here for modifying. Permanently.’ 

Nicholas shivered agreeably. ‘That sounds ominous.’ 

‘Doesn’t it just?’ Jasper said, and got up. ‘Well I’m off, darlings. See you at group.’ 

His walking away revealed the modifications _he_ had—as did the way he walked, a sort of very ambling glide that showed off the enormousness of his… kit, Nicholas always thought it was a ‘kit’ if the cisman was English, and Jasper was definitely English. 

Rowena and Jasper were both English, whereas Yvelle seemed to be American, like Nicholas, though more southern than he was. Nicholas chatted with Rowena and Yvelle, and noticed they both encouraged him to eat, which made him feel like they cared about him. 

Nicholas learned that Rowena was also fresh out of a relationship (not as long as Nicholas’, but the same kind), and was very open about her own reasons for being on the third floor (she wanted bigger everything), and what the third floor was. 

‘Oh,’ she said when he asked, ‘you’re here because you’ve agreed to the permanent transformations.’ 

Nicholas recalled there _had_ been a lot of forms and ticky boxes, and that he’d read them all carefully. Some of them did talk about experimental plastic non-surgical aesthetico-sexual procedures, and the phrase had seemed intriguing enough for him to tick the box for it. 

‘Yep, that’s the one,’ Yvelle said. ‘Permish to—oh hi, Jan,’ she said, to the tall blond nurse that was coming over. Yvelle levered up. ‘See you at group, kiddos,’ she said. 

‘Permission to do what?’ Nicholas asked Rowena, who was closest to his age anyway. She was still eating, and kept putting things on his plate. He liked her, for that; people feeding him always made him feel loved and cared about. 

‘Well, when I came in, I was _very_ slim, and my bosoms were… oh, not _small_ , but not very… full.’ 

‘I totally understand,’ Nicholas said, because _his_ erstwhile bosoms had been the same way, more skin than filling. But the way Rowena looked now… they looked _firm_ , almost hard, almost fake except for the fact that, unlike fake ones, they weren’t perfectly round. 

‘Do you like them? I don’t mind if you look.’ She shifted, moving in that particular way that bounced them a bit. Nicholas finally let himself openly look, and wanted to do more than look immediately. 

‘I love them,’ he said, in a hushed voice. She giggled in reply. 

‘They’re so big and full, and I produce a gallon of milk a day.’ 

‘Gosh,’ Nicholas said, trying not to salivate. She patted her belly, which, while big, was almost hidden beneath them. It sounded hollow, like a watermelon—not like a pregnant belly at all. 

‘And this,’ she said, all smiles. ‘This is six litres—three of an enema, and three filling my womb, and then breakfast, of course. I _like_ being full, don’t you?’ 

Nicholas drank more of his coffee, feeling the pressure in his bladder, which had been growing steadily since he’d woken up. ‘Yes,’ he said, breathless. ‘God, how long until I can be like you?’ 

‘Oh, I’ve been here _quite_ a while, but you should ask the doctor when you see him today, he’d be quite happy to know what sort of alterations you want.’ 

‘Okay,’ Nicholas said. 

‘Have they got a catheter in you?’ she asked. 

‘Mhm,’ Nicholas said, squirming a little. The catheter, he’d learnt, was made of something soft, likely silicone, and perfectly flexible enough to be comfortable. It just didn’t allow egress. Squirming, therefore, felt perfectly _lovely_. 

Rowena giggled in delight. ‘Oooh, that was my favourite. I like,’ she said, and lowered her voice. ‘I like when Nurse Fawn fills me up until I feel I’m going to burst, and then locks it in for _hours_ , sometimes _all night_.’ 

Nicholas felt short of breath, flushed; but a little apprehensive, ‘Isn’t that, you know, dangerous?’ 

‘Oh no, not after treatment. You’ll see. Doctor Kildaire is _so_ brilliant.’ 


	3. Bathtime

‘Simon,’ Kildaire said, after the other three nurses had left the room with their daily assignments. Simon was usually the float, but now that Nicholas had been transferred from the hospital down in the nearby vale to their mountain, Kildaire was in need of a new float, though the Third Floor only needed one for secretarial, usually. The patients on this floor were well-behaved and heavily vetted before they got up here for same. Obedience borne of pleasure was a requirement.

‘Yes?’

Kildaire had been writing notes, and handed them now to Simon. ‘Start him on the serum in his bath.’

-

Fawn, Rowena’s nurse, came to get her shortly after breakfast, and Simon was on her heels. Nicholas expected morning medicine, but Simon was not forthcoming.

‘Good morning, Nicholas,’ Simon said, touching Nicholas’ shoulder companionably. ‘How are you, dear? Sleep well?’

‘Yes,’ Nicholas said. ‘My bed is way softer than I’m used to anymore, but not too soft. I like all the pillows.’ There were a lot of pillows, and all of them were down, just like the fluffy duvet. Nicholas had kept the windows open all night just to make sure the room was cool enough to enjoy them all.

He was also, it must be admitted, blushing and possibly babbling a little bit, because all he could think of was how Simon was going to find out he had only pretended to be asleep. Simon, however, only smiled and started the bath.

‘Wash off and then we’ll start the parts I have to help you with,’ he said simply, and turned around, giving Nicholas some privacy.

Nicholas did as he was told, rinsing his hair with cold water when he was done, and wrapping it in a towel. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I’m done.’

‘Good,’ Simon said, and went over to one of the tiled walls the  bathing area was tucked against, folding a contoured bed out of it, that was shaped so that it was clear that Nicholas was supposed to be on his back with his legs up and spread. Simon lowered it, and Nicholas climbed on without comment, and set his legs in the comfortable curves that held his whole leg, not just his heel. He felt like he could lay here quite a while, it was even padded with closed-cell foam. The good thick kind.

‘Spread your legs… there, good.’ Simon said, ‘Now, I’m just going to massage your vaginal passage.’

He took the hand-shower, and the reason the hand-shower was so smooth and slim became apparent, as he turned it on.

‘Now, let’s see… that’s a good temperature, and we’ll start on a simple spray setting to rinse you all out.’

Nicholas could only watch as the nurse sprayed his exposed pussy down, the jets of water feeling a little intense due to the delicate skin, but not painful, and then move the head closer and closer, spreading his labia minora carefully and starting to work the head inside. Nicholas couldn’t breathe but shallowly, unable to look away as the nurse slid the spraying hand-shower inside him, and then the water instantly began to balloon out his vaginal walls, and he gasped, trying to squirm but strapped down and unable to.

‘There we go… that’s better, isn’t it…’ the nurse murmured, gently rubbing just above Nicholas’ huge clit. ‘Just relax… try and get aroused, it will help… I’m going to pull out now, and I want you to push out all the water.’

Nicholas obeyed without thinking, the nurse still rubbing gentle circles above his clit, making sure his body knew to get aroused. Nicholas heard a click, and a change in the water’s sound, a chugging that made him thrill and struggle despite himself.

‘Now, now,’ the nurse said gently, not ceasing his ministrations. ‘Hold still, Nicholas dear. This is for your own good.’

Somehow, those words, said in that accent, were unspeakably hot. Nicholas tried to stay still, and the moment he was, the hand-shower went in again—and the stronger, thicker jets of water almost hurt, pounding at his walls as Simon rotated the nozzle, keeping it in much longer, the water pressure building and building until it was overflowing out of Nicholas, around the hand-shower’s length.

‘I know,’ Simon said, still working the hand-shower to pound every inch of Nicholas’ insides. ‘I know, but we have to, Nicholas.’ He kept up his stimulation of Nicholas fat little clit, privately fantasizing about when it got big enough to torment with weights and chastity cages.

The water was laced with a strong dose of the drug that modified all the patients on the third floor, and Simon twisted and slid back and forth with the hand-shower until, when he pushed, there was more give, and a small popping sensation, and Nicholas gasped, as the cervix finished transforming into an easier-to-open passageway, allowing the hand-shower into the uterus proper, where the water began rapidly filling the space, and Simon let go of the hand-shower, leaving it inside his patient, still toying with that clit to prevent Nicholas losing arousal.

Nicholas didn’t know what had happened, but the hand-shower was pounding deep within him now, and filling him up, and up, and his belly had never been full _there_ before, and every twitch he felt the hard head of the hand-shower inside him, the water pressing out to distend his belly, and Simon was rubbing the root of his clit now, having moved just a little lower, and Nicholas couldn’t _help_ the arousal, and looked down to see his belly already so full he couldn’t see past it to his cunt.

‘Nh!’

‘I know, but you’re doing splendidly, dear. Just lay back and let it fill you, let me take care of you….’

‘Hn?’

Simon’s free hand started massaging his belly. Nicholas made more than a gasp, this time, a small noise signalled his increased arousal. Simon pressed, and began to massage the belly as it grew, water gushing out, widening the passage with the sheer pressure. Nicholas was coming in seconds, but Simon wasn’t done with his treatment yet—the water had to be in there for fifteen minutes in order to fully absorb and begin making all of this more permanent.

‘Gooood boy, Nicholas, you’re being such a good boy for me, doing your best to hold so still… thaaat’s a good boy… I know, I know, it’s so hard, it’s so much. You can do it, Nicholas, you can do it…. Goood boy, good boy, your belly is so _full_ isn’t it? So full and so _gorgeous.’_

Whoops. He wasn’t supposed to get personal with the praise, not yet. They were still supposed to be professionally distant, and Simon was supposed to pretend he didn’t notice the arousal, even as he encouraged it. Still, Simon was only human, and Nicholas _was_ gorgeous, his belly rounded, the hardness of the fill softened by the slight softness of fat. Not nearly enough fat, but it was better than none.

Nicholas was glazed and panting, unsure and uncaring about propriety or embarrassment, so consumed with fullness he was just struggling to breathe through it and hold still while his nurse fucked him deeper than anyone ever had, fucked him as deep as a fantasy. He felt something deep inside him twitching around the warm chrome of the hand-shower, and realized it was his cervix, it had to be, but cervixes weren’t supposed to twitch like that….

Oh, gods, when would it end? Would Simon do the same to his ass? Nicholas felt a fresh wave of arousal at that.

He couldn’t do more than space out, Simon still massaging his belly.

 _Do you feel pregnant, little one?_ Simon thought, since he couldn’t say it. _Do you feel like you’re about to burst? The look on your face is delicious, I can only imagine what you’ll look like when we’re through with you._ Simon allowed himself to imagine Nicholas with his skin bare as a doll’s, his face made up and his long, elegant feet in pink pointe boots, cunt plumped and rosy-flush and twitching around a lade of silicone eggs, or clear plugs that held him open while the machines fucked him through the night, every thrust coming with a fresh pump of liquid, his belly swelling, creamy-white and soft, as he moaned….

The fifteen minutes were up, and Simon removed the hand-shower, a thick gush of water coming after it, and more following, and more; Simon started ever-so-gently pushing the generous foreskin of that clitoris up and down the glans of it, to encourage Nicholas to keep pushing.

‘There, that’s it, just get all of it out… good boy.’ He let Nicholas rest, catch his breath, turning the hand-shower off to switch to the much smaller and more flexible attachment. ‘Are you ready to fill up your bladder?’

 _‘Yes,’_ the answer was immediate, and Simon felt an answering coil of arousal at it, as though Simon had offered something Nicholas had wanted for _years_.

Nicholas closed his eyes, feeling his nurse adjust him so his legs were even further apart, his genitalia helplessly exposed. He wished he could find it in himself to ask to be shaved or waxed, so he could feel even _more_ exposed. Maybe soon. Maybe they’d prescribe it… Nicholas hoped so. But for right now, his nurse was spreading his already gaping cunt, gently probing with the tip of the catheter, sliding it gently in, and in, and… Nicholas had never felt one go _in_ before. It felt wonderfully _deep_ , and _intimate_.

‘Goooood boy, Nicholas, that’s a good boy… you’re being so still… so relaxed for me… that’s a good boy, just a little further….’

One of the requirements for this hospital’s staff was the ability to insert anything into any orifice without causing discomfort or pain to the patient. Simon was well-known for this, and always called in to teach catheters and sounds to other nurses. He knew the sound was going in smoothly by the soft noises his patient made, and patiently worked the catheter further, until he felt it slide past the bladder’s entrance. He locked it in place and eased the water on. This was a less dramatic fill, the bladder being more delicate. The water was gently warming from body temperature to just a little bit higher, an even hundred degrees, which Simon knew would feel almost too hot….

‘Oh,’ Nicholas said, breathless, as he felt the heat.

‘The heat is to relax the muscles, Nicholas, just try and relax, it’s okay… you’re doing just fine….’ Simon watched the bulge grow, faster as the bladder was closer to surface, and gently stroked the fat clit he’d grown to love so much that he had dreams about it, fantsising about how big and swollen he was going to make it, soon.

Nicholas had always wanted to inflate his bladder. It was his first fantasy, far before he was old enough to think about his cunt, and he’d often held out, as a child, to the last possible second before going to the bathroom, liking the tingly feeling, the fullness, the fluttering giddiness he realised, as an adult, was arousal.

His bladder was already fuller than he could get it by himself, and the way his body was panicking was delicious. The urgency, the fact he was fighting not to squirm, the fact that he really couldn’t, not much, though as he started struggling not to struggle, Nicholas felt Simon put a hand on his inner thigh.

‘Nicholas,’ he said, in a voice that was concerned but not censorious. ‘Little one, do you need me to strap you down?’

‘Nn…uh-huh…’ Nicholas said, and whimpered when Simon had to take his hand away from Nicholas’ clit. But the straps going around his thighs _were_ helpful. Simon smoothed a hand gently over the scar across Nicholas’ chest.

‘I don’t want to put a strap here and hurt your scar,’ Simon said, ‘can you resist the urge to arch and buck, Nicholas? Can you do that for me?’

Nicholas nodded, his face a beautiful combination of glazed over and desperate to please. Simon smiled down at him, and dared the personal touch to his cheek.

‘Good boy,’ Simon said, and went back to his place between Nicholas’ thighs, monitoring the growing bulge that was his bladder. ‘I think that’s about full enough. Try to hold it to a count of three, when I pull this out, alright?’

Nicholas squeaked. Simon hid a chuckle, and slowly, gently pulled the catheter out. ‘One, two, three.’

There was quivering, and little grunts of effort, but Nicholas must have had a personal history of holding it in, to be so strong on the first try. Then, of course, he released, and it came gushing out.

‘Try not to push, Nicholas,’ Simon said, ‘That’s it, good boy, just relax, let it come out….’ He kept stroking the boy’s clit gently. ‘Gooood boy, that’s it.’ He was likely coming again, and that was just how Simon wanted it. He watched with pleasure as the water fountained out of Nicholas, keeping up his strokes, until it was all out, and Nicholas was panting, twitching with the aftermath of his orgasm. ‘Now,’ Simon said, trying not to sound too wicked. ‘I’m going to give you a deep enema. It will fill up your entire lower intestine, and then I will be massaging your belly for the fifteen minute hold time, and then you’ll hold it until your session with Dr Kildaire.’

Nicholas’ arousal spiked, at Simon’s last edict that he’d just be left full for a couple of hours. He heard Simon changing attachments again, and rubbing his anus with gloved fingertips, and sliding in something thin and flexible and soft, that slid _deep_ inside him. Something pressed at his entrance from inside, then outside, sandwiching his anus in a secure seal. Nicholas knew it was the kind of enema plug that made any kind of leakage impossible, and thrilled that such measures had to be taken.

‘I’m going to turn on the flow now, you may not feel anything for a little bit.’

Nicholas waited, silently, eyes closed, trying to feel something other than the small thing in his ass; after a minute or so, he started to feel a sense of warmth. After a few more, the sense of pressure started to build, and it built slowly, but steadily, and so did the urgency, delicious. Nicholas felt fuller, and fuller, and felt his bowels start to try and move, and his rectum started to fill, then, and he gasped as the sense of fullness got _very_ acute, opened his eyes to see his belly starting to grow, looking bloated and then unnaturally full, the small rolls of fat smoothing out as his belly stretched. It wasn’t long before he felt like he was going to burst, and his ass started twitching, trying to push the plug out in vain.

Simon smiled when Nicholas closed his eyes and turned up his brows in distress, sucking on his bottom lip. Beautiful, Simon thought, very beautiful. When the first noise slipped out, Simon cinched the hose closed and turned off the valve, detaching the tubing from the faucet and stripping his gloves, drizzling oil on Nicholas’ distended belly, right on his navel, which was quite a bit shallower now, though wasn’t popped out. Soon, Simon thought to himself, as he smoothed the oil over that full belly, and began his favourite part of this process.

Nicholas would likely try not to make noises, but Simon started to massage, pushing that belly around, and knowing the increase in pressure was torturous. The point of this was not really to do anything particular to the enema; it had more to do with how Nicholas took it, the personal touch and the sensations, the helplessness of being strapped down and filled like this, unable to relieve the extreme discomfort.

Nicholas was in blissful hell. Simon was pushing and rubbing over his belly, and even though the plug was proving it would not let a drop spill out, Nicholas still had the instinct to fear that, especially with his legs spread so wide and his ass feeling full to bursting, and withal, not having any way of stopping this torture, or any mercy. After a while, he felt himself going through the fear and coming to accept, and that was about when Simon stopped, and went away for a while to wash his hands and put on another pair of gloves. Nicholas just breathed, his belly feeling like it was shivering, twitching, on the inside.

Simon came back, and started stroking his clit again, before gently setting a spreader ring to hold back his labia from his clitoris, straps going from the ring around Nicholas’ hips like a pair of very skimpy jockstrap underwear. Simon carefully arranged the straps around the anal plug, then unstrapped the boy and helped him to his feet.

‘Doctor Kildaire will be seeing you in a little bit.’

He left Nicholas naked and dazed, hiding a smile as he closed the door and returned to the office.

-

Nicholas had no idea when Dr Kildaire was going to be seeing him, and he could barely think with his belly how it was. He wondered if he could lay on his bed and reach his clit, but it seemed unlikely, given the plug hanging out of him and his enormous belly. He tried taking a step, and wondered what the thing around his hips was. It was making his clit feel very exposed, felt sort of like a fancy piece of jewellery Nicholas had seen once, and coveted. Struggling over to the wardrobe, he looked in the mirror and, kneeling on his bed and doing a little contorting that tortured his swollen belly even more, realised he was right—only this wasn’t jewellery, clearly, it was made of silicone and very utilitarian. The thin elastic straps were flesh tone, and the ring itself was clear, and just made sure his clit was always exposed.

The vulnerability of that was delicious. Nicholas tried to get dressed, realising that he couldn’t even wear pyjama pants or panties, and finding a long, simple negligée  he hadn’t seen before in his wardrobe. It was sheer, felt like silk, and a warm shade of pastel purple, and edged with purple maribou. It was also full and felt very expensive. He loved it immediately, having always wanted something like this, and went to stand out on his balcony for a while in the sun, before working his way back inside, and putting his hands over his belly, sliding them around the curve and cradling from the bottom.

He lifted, and there was a slight movement, and so he released, letting his belly drop. It didn’t jiggle much, it was too full for that, but it was a little. He shook it next, and groaned at the torture this caused, panting for several moments as he felt his body clenching and pushing. He felt a warmth down his leg and panicked for a moment he’d leaked out, despite the plug and everything, before realising it was dripping from the wrong place, and realising it was arousal.

He spent… he didn’t know how long, but a while… shaking his belly over and over, until his cunt felt swollen and buzzy with the need to be touched. But he couldn’t touch it, and revelled in that torment.

He was starting to suspect that there was an element of kink going on, here; but he was enjoying it too much to really mind ethical quandaries.

Oh, God, he wanted to… wanted to… but he also didn’t want to, wanted to be edged forever and ever, until he _died_ from sheer arousal.

There was a knock at the door, and Nicholas made his way over to open it, seeing Dr Kildaire for the first time since his intake.

Dr Kildaire was tall and wore a very fine three-piece suit, black with a black shirt and very wide black tie. It looked well on him, and so did his pleasant smile.

‘Nicholas. Just this way, we’re meeting in my office.’

Nicholas felt a delighted, giddy horror at the idea he’d have to walk anywhere semi-public like this, and followed, taking tiny steps, feeling the waddling feeling of the plug’s tubing swaying back and forth like some kind of tail behind him. Dr Kildaire led him all the way to the end of the hall, and to a door with his name on it, then inside to a room with the same wood panelling as the rest of the third floor.

Dominating one wall was a rack of hoses coming out of it, and all manner of gauges and valves and a locked cabinet. There was also a daybed low enough to sit on, and a chair. Dr Kildaire closed the door behind him.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Full,’ Nicholas said, unable to summon up better words to explain the arousal and the desire to be pushed further, filled more.

The soft chuckle. ‘I imagine. Simon said he filled you a little more than was prescribed, because you were taking it so well.’

Nicholas felt a warm glow of pride, at that, even as he blushed at the attention. ‘Did he?’ he stammered, through his blush.

‘Yes, and now, I’m afraid it’s time for an injection to your clit.’

‘While I’m full?’

‘Oh, you aren’t going to be drained. Not after what Simon reported.’ Dr Kildaire gave a gentle smile, even as he filled a syringe from a sealed phial in his gloved hands. ‘It will all absorb by this time tomorrow, and you’ll feel just fine. Right now, I need you to lay on your side and put one leg up.’

Nicholas did so, and Dr Kildaire strapped his leg to the back of the daybed, and the other one to the bed.

‘Good,’ he said, ‘now, _don’t move_.’

Nicholas found that, quite suddenly, he _couldn’t_ move; he couldn’t even tense his clit, he could only breathe steadily as he watched Dr Kildaire push a button with his foot that raised the bed up, and got the bubbles from the syringe before cleaning Nicholas’ clit with an alcohol swab, pinching it between his first two fingers, and slowly sliding the needle in. It hurt, of course it did, but Nicholas found he couldn’t even scream or make noise, something was stopping him, and he was paralysed, trapped in his body as he felt something warm and surprisingly pleasant start to flow, slowly, from the needle buried in his clit. He started to feel his clit swelling immediately, and the arousal became so unbearable he knew if he could he would be screaming and writhing, and it was nice to not be able to do that, it let him _enjoy it_.

‘Good boy,’ Dr Kildaire’s voice was _very_ different now, low and androgynous and _velvety_ , and he pulled the needle out, setting it aside before starting to stroke like he knew exactly how, which was impossible because nobody had a clit like Nicholas’, it was kind of freakish that way. But he was stroking perfectly, and Nicholas couldn’t change his breathing, or make the least particle of noise, and it was delicious, it was pure pleasure, and he came, and came, and then Dr Kildaire changed his strokes, and Nicholas felt the flood gushing from his urethra, and yet, unlike all the other times that had happened, he wasn’t _satisfied_ , he still wanted _more_. He was so full, and yet so very empty, his cunt _hungry_ for something to fill it.

‘Good boy, give it to me,’ Kildaire murmured, as the ejaculate kept on coming. ‘Give it all to me, that’s it… good boy, Nicholas. Is it nice to come properly, for once? To be filled to bursting and made immobile, so all you can do is _feel_?’

Nicholas couldn’t answer, but in his mind, he thought, loudly, _YES!_ With every fibre of his being, every year of his being, he realised, had been this fantasy—to be full of liquid like this, to be immobile, to be given pleasure that never ended, to come and come and come and come in an endless cycle of desperate arousal and relief….

‘Good. You’re going to be staying here forever, and I’m going to make you everything you have ever desired, in your darkest heart, whether you want to or not.’

 _Oh god,_ Nicholas said, seeing the long tail, slick and shiny like wet ink, and just as black, _he’s… he’s a monster of some kind… he’s… an incubus! That’s why I can’t move! Oh my god!_ He came again just at the realisation, almost dizzy from a very different kind of pleasure.

Kildaire chuckled, at that.

‘ _Good_ boy.’


	4. Intake with The Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a pun.

‘All of your genital orifices will be dilated—and I mean all of them.’ Doctor Kildaire said, watching as Nicholas’ clit swelled, drinking in his pleasure, head buzzing pleasantly from the high of it—he hadn’t expected someone as eager as Rowena to come along again, not for another century….

Nicholas still couldn’t really move, and he felt like all his blood had been replaced with pure dopamine because of it. All he could do was lay there, like a doll, and let Doctor Kildaire do… whatever he wanted to do. He wondered if everyone here had gone through this, or if their own particular secret fantasies had been indulged.

‘After you are dilated as wide as I desire,’ Doctor Kildaire went on, referencing a clipboard he was holding, ‘we’ll begin permanent inflation of your ano-genital area via saline and vacuum suction.’ He looked up, with a grin full of sharp white teeth, his black tail lashing the air; Kildaire had sensed that Nicholas _liked_ seeing him in his true form, a rare thing for a patient. ‘You will think of nothing but pleasure, live for nothing but pleasure, be _good for_ nothing but _taking it_.

‘And you will never be left idle, mercy me, _no._ You won’t have time to _think_ , with the regimen I have planned for you.’

Nicholas whimpered, especially as he was now empty, and the doctor’s warm hands were spreading his labia, toying with his foreskin, _exploring_ him, _taking notes_. ‘I knew the instant I saw this _gorgeous_ cunt that you’d be _perfect_ for me….’ Kildaire murmured, and Nicholas would have shivered, if he’d been able to. ‘You may speak,’ Kildaire said, and Nicholas found he was, with those words, able to.

‘This all sounds _amazing_ ,’ Nicholas said right away, wanting to reassure him. Doctor Kildaire smiled gently, looking into Nicholas’ eyes with his own fire-gold ones. ‘Are you going to turn me into an incubus?’ Nicholas asked, eagerly. ‘Is this the process? I suppose I’m more of a succubus, though…’

‘Why do you say that, my dear?’ Kildaire asked.

‘I’m a bottom,’ Nicholas said, grinning crookedly as Kildaire gave a full-throated laugh, throwing his head back, showing the inside of his mouth was blackish-violet, and that he had sharp fangs. Nicholas watched the black tail, so slick it seemed like it should be dripping, caress his chest, curling against the long scar across it, leaving something like viscous ink behind. It was warm and it stayed warm, as the tail trailed down his belly. Nicholas bit his lip, unable to move, gleefully anticipating the tail plunging deep into one of his orifices. ‘Please please pleeeeease fuck me,’ he said, breathless. ‘Oh, please, sir. Please. I’ve always wanted to be fucked by an incubus…’

‘Is that so?’ Doctor Kildaire said, reaching down to tug at Nicholas’ foreskin, trying to decide which part of Nicholas he wanted to fuck. His cervix had been dilated, Simon had said it was gaping and lovely now, perfect for filling with eggs (Simon did so love eggs, broody thing he was). Kildaire wasn’t going to fill Nicholas, that treat was for Simon; he slid his tail into that gaping passage, however, made tight again by the swelling of the clitoris’ internal petals, and the _noise_ Nicholas made was enough to make his eyes fall closed, composure wavering as he felt the pleasure, the way Nicholas feared he would come too soon, the pleasure at every moment he stayed at the threshold, unknowing that the paralysis was also keeping his body from orgasm.

‘Please,’ Nicholas said, ‘Please…’

Kildaire pushed his tail further in, past that deliciously wide cervix, feeling it squeeze as his tail got wider, further along. Then, he stopped, and, marking the depth, began to thrust exactly that deep. The squeeze was delicious, especially in combination with how loose the actual muscles were from the pounding Simon had given them.

Nicholas made little squeaks, struggling to breathe, delighting in how helpless he was how everything was held just so he could be fucked deep, and hard enough, and, oh, he wanted to come, he should be coming, but he wasn’t, he wasn’t, and that was making it so. Much. _Better_.

‘Delicious creature.’ Kildaire’s voice had a hiss beneath it, now, his appearance more and more demonic with every thrust, every helpless burst of pleasure Nicholas’ swollen clitoris was forced to endure without release. He waited until Nicholas was _crying_ , overwhelmed, probably more aroused than he’d ever been in his life, and _then_ —and only then—did Kildaire release him from the paralysis, and feel him come so hard he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel. Kildaire stayed deep within him, pushing deeper with every pulse of orgasm, knowing the less concentrated version of the serum (it was distilled from the inky goo coating his tail) would still leave Nicholas gaping.

Nicholas wasn’t sure if he passed out or not, but he definitely couldn’t move for very different reasons now, and the thought made him giggle, which tightened his cunt around the thick tail still inside him, and he gasped again, feeling it writhe; and then, begin to pull out. He moaned, and was delighted that he wasn’t sore, that made afterglow so much better. Doctor Kildaire undid the cuffs holding his legs, and arranged him on the day bed so that his legs were still splayed, but more comfortably. He sat on the bed and stroked Nicholas’ clit, savouring the whine this elicited.

‘I know, precious _baby_ ,’ he purred, so much sympathy it was obvious he was enjoying tormenting Nicholas, ‘but I need more…’ His tail slid into that urethra, stretched just enough by the catheter to be visible, and, slowly, worked itself in, until the tip had actually reached Nicholas’ bladder, and could drink the arousal that had pooled inside. The bed was already soaked, and Kildaire didn’t intend to lose another draught of the rarest of delicacies, the come of someone with a cunt.

Below him, Nicholas moaned, and whined, and hyperventilated, but he only tensed around that tail, he didn’t squirm, though his thighs quivered with the effort, and his hands were kneading the soft coverlet like a cat. ‘Nnnnhsogoodsogoodsogoooooood…’ he said, under his breath.

‘So are you,’ Kildaire hissed, pulling his tail out, and admiring the gape. ‘Mmm, I think we’ll put a retention plug in your urethra…’ He got up to fetch one, retracting his tail and looking human by the time he got to the chest of drawers and fetched the plug, coming back and spreading Nicholas’ labia, sliding the soft silicone in, and in, and in… he could feel the balanoid tip of the plug finally seat in the entrance to the bladder, and smiled at the whimper Nicholas made. ‘There,’ he said, too gently, ‘How do you feel, Nicholas?’

‘Hnnn,’ Nicholas said, a tear falling from one of his eyes. ‘Empty and full at the same time. Plug the rest of me?’ he asked, so hopefully. Kildaire traced the entrance of his gaping cunt, and watched him tense, not ever quite able to close it. ‘Please,’ Nicholas begged. ‘Please, sir, please…’

‘No,’ Kildaire said, and they both savoured the way Nicholas burst into tears.


	5. Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy St Dwynwen's Day! Have some smut.

When Simon came to answer the call-bell from the Doctor’s office, Kildaire let him in and shut the door. Nicholas was laying on the daybed with his eyes closed, his breaths rising and falling with light sleep.

‘He’s got a size one urethral plug in,’ Kildaire told Simon, handing him the chart; Simon glanced at it, then had to do a double-take. _Begin conducting practise laying sessions with size 3 eggs…._

Simon had to work very hard to keep from giggling in sheer delight. Size 3 were fairly big, not a beginner egg, would strain Nicholas’ cervix so deliciously, stretching it further. ‘I assume this is in combination with serum doses?’ he asked, his own, shorter tail swishing the air eagerly.

‘Yes. He has expressed interest in being a succubus, I thought it only appropriate to change his treatment to reflect that.’

‘A succubus! Really?’ Simon said, in a hushed voice, mindful that their patient was asleep. Rowena had been slated for that, though another was always welcome, especially since two meant… well, Simon had always wanted to connect two egg-layers, so that they were constantly having to lay eggs into one another… but succubi were so rare…!

‘You’re _shivering_ , Simon, do let me help…’ Kildaire murmured, and kissed his nurse, winding his tail around Simon’s and squeezing, stroking, Simon melting in his arms, submitting to the fingers that curled deep into his cunt, and the hand that wrapped around his cock, his superior fucking him until he came, Kildaire sharing some of the sustenance Nicholas had given him with Simon. Usually, it was best the nurses weren’t sated like this, but Simon was overexcited, and needed to maintain control of himself around their new patient. When Kildaire pulled away, Simon was breathing steadier, and no longer trembling.

‘I’ll outline a training regimen and have it submitted to you by end of day,’ Simon said, sounding much more like himself. ‘In the meantime, what should I have him doing?’

‘How desperate to come is Rowena, right now?’

‘Oh, very. I think Fawn has had her nipples plugged up for two days, now, and her clit’s been in level six chastity for a week, and… let me see… well, she’s surpassed all the stages of enema inflation that we _have_ —Fawn’s been having to make up new levels, the girl can fit _five gallons_ in that arse of hers, now.’

‘Good,’ Kildaire said, ever fond of Rowena. ‘Top off her bladder and put the milk duct stimulators in her, and we’ll put her in a furniture frame, in Nicholas’ room. Tell him he can fuck it, if he wants his cunt filled with something, and we’ll see what he does.’

.oOo.

When Nicholas woke up, he was in his own room, and his plug was comfortably arranged with him on his side, his cunt still feeling frustratingly empty, especially with how his clit was throbbing, swollen even still. He pushed himself up, and noticed there was something new in his room; it was a chair, or a sofa maybe—it was a piece of furniture, and there was a dildo in a perfect spot, and… it was pretty big, but he was so stretched out, maybe… he could take something that big.

He was straddling the cushioned bench before he could think about it, and his belly was a little smaller now, he must have absorbed a little whatever it was inside him, he knew that would happen. Right now, however, he just wanted to fill his cunt, and he didn’t remember last time he’d been this aroused. It was so nice, being so wet, so flush, so… so _functional!_

He slid himself against the toy, biting his lip with how good the toy felt against his clit; but he wanted it inside, he was still empty, and he wanted to be full. Nicholas found a bottle of lube helpfully left in reach, and drizzled it over the toy, before carefully lowering himself onto it, using the grab-bars to steady himself, slowly…. ‘Oh god oh god oh god…’ he whispered to himself, as he felt how tight his swollen clit was making his passage, felt the tip of the toy start to breach his new gaping, _hungry_ cervix. ‘Oh god, so deep…’

He found himself comfortably getting all the way down, and felt the tingly, warm feeling that came with a perfect toy. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time. He squeezed a little, and moaned. It felt _real_ , this must have been one of the toys with dual-density silicone…. So full, so good. It was just full enough, and so _deep_ , he scrambled for a few moments, having never been very good at this position, and finally just started moving his hips forward and back, not concerning himself overmuch with up and down. There was give around the toy, so it moved with him perfectly, and he felt his clit rubbing against the purple satin of the upholstery, closing his eyes and feeling the plug in his ass, the stretch and the strain of it, and the heavy slosh of his belly, and the toy deep in his cunt, moving against his clit on the inside, while he rocked back and forth against the perfect little spot on this piece of furniture…

He’d never come without using his hands before, but he did now, and let out a noise in pure surprise at it, feeling his body pulsing as hard as though he hadn’t been coming multiple times only a little while ago. He held tight to the grab bar, panting. He’d never come that hard by himself, before. It felt… it felt _powerful_.

_I don’t need you to come anymore. I don’t need anyone!_

He smiled triumphantly to himself, nodding in agreement with this thought, but not yet brave enough to say it aloud.

The toy was twitching, inside him. It wasn’t quite vibrating, but then again, Nicholas didn’t like vibrators, they vibrated too fast.

And it was warm.

He let it twitch, and started to look at the furniture differently. He wasn’t unfamiliar with forniphilia, was there… was there a person in here? The toy was so realistic… was it a _human_ toy? The idea didn’t bother Nicholas as much as he thought it should; but if this was a demonic institution, then someone being encased in a piece of furniture wasn’t odd at all.

He was even a little jealous of whoever was in there. Was it Jasper? He shifted his hips, found himself wishing he could hear muffled noises, or see more parts of the person. Gosh, he was sort of cruel, wasn’t he?

_You knew you’ve always had just a little bit of sadism._

True, he thought to himself. He did like it in small doses, and with far more unusual things. Like this.

There was a tapping on the door. ‘Nicholas?’ came Simon’s voice. ‘May I come in?’

‘Yes!’ Nicholas called, feeling his cheeks get hot as Simon came in, hoping he wouldn’t flinch. He didn’t, smiling.

‘Oh, I’m so glad the toy is the right size.’ Simon came over. ‘I wanted to tell you lunch was ready, and check to see if you’d found a way to orgasm.’

Nicholas blushed. ‘I… sure did,’ he said, grinning. Simon’s answering smile was everything. ‘Is… the sex toy… alive?’ Nicholas went on, unsure how to ask. He rocked his hips, trying to show he wasn’t objecting to this in the least. ‘Just wondering who it is.’

‘Rowena,’ Simon said.

‘Is… she coming to lunch?’

‘When you’re finished with her.’

‘I wish more of her was showing,’ Nicholas said, rolling with this. ‘She has such nice softness.’

‘You can be specific.’

‘I like her tits, they look—god, they’re so gorgeous, especially with how big and long her nipples are, and…. And her belly, it’s so soft and so… it was so _full_ when I saw it…. And this cock is amazing.’

‘It’s a clitoris, in fact.’

Nicholas paused, eyes widening, and Simon knew, in that moment, that Nicholas’ clit was _absolutely_ going to be available for the same transformation. He was already thinking about it. Simon sat down on the sofa, and watched Nicholas’ hips openly, watched his belly, watched the way he had to tilt his hips forward to keep from jostling the plug in his ass uncomfortably, watched how he was moving Rowena’s clit back and forth, probably driving her insensate with orgasms, especially given the way her bladder was filled up, and her soft tits bound to either side and the plugs in her nipples hooked up to the gentlest current of power, the thin wires extending internally from the plug into her milk ducts, stimulating them to produce more and more of the fat-rich milk they were training her body to make. And that didn’t even touch on the subject of her quim, which was stuffed as full as Nicholas’ had been, every jostle from Nicholas allowing the plug to move inside her. She was gagged to keep Nicholas from hearing anything, and blindfolded and had earplugs so all her focus was on what she was feeling. It was how she usually did her procedures.

‘I will make note that you would like to interact with Rowena more directly, when using her as a toy.’

Nicholas wanted to say something about the kink; but it also felt like a dream—if you breathed wrong, it might disappear entirely. And Nicholas was used to nice things being taken away as soon as he started to really _like_ them. So he didn’t say anything, except, ‘What’s for lunch?’ And, reluctantly, got off of his new sex toy, feeling more empty than before.

‘We have barbecue steak,’ Simon began, as Nicholas slipped on the negligée again, and the slippers Simon had put in here for him. They were much more elegant looking than the shoes he’d come in with. ‘And broccolini, beets, and some fresh bread Jasper and Yvelle made together just after breakfast…’

‘I’ve never had beets,’ Nicholas said, trying not to feel embarrassed about everything. ‘Um,’ he said, as they got closer to the dining room. ‘Do I… have to dine in the dining room?’

‘This is about your plug, isn’t it?’ Simon asked, gently, enjoying the blush getting worse, but aware he couldn’t indulge _his_ spices, only Nicholas’. _Never push a mortal too far,_ he remembered Doctor Kildaire’s teaching, and honed his senses, looking for signs Nicholas was truly distressed.

‘I mean, I don’t want people making fun. I know the staff won’t, but other patients… I mean, we’re all here because we’re mentally ill, right? That means people just… say stuff, and you can’t control that.’

Simon didn’t want to disabuse him of the idea that this was just an unusual BHU; patients had to realise, usually slowly, that ‘hospital’ was only a façade. Simon stopped walking, weighing his options. He decided to take a slight risk.

‘How about I sit with you, would that help?’

Nicholas weighed his options, and decided to take a slight risk. ‘Okay,’ he said, because Simon was right, and also… well, he wanted to push himself, a little, wanted to try riding the embarrassment, trying to let it occupy him for long enough to really _feel_ it. Maybe nobody would say anything. Maybe it would just all be in Nicholas’ head, trying to do normal things, trying to not squirm, trying to finish a meal when his belly was full and he was plugged and couldn’t even wear clothes. Exhibitionism was only immoral when the voyeurs weren’t consenting, right?

‘Are… Jasper and Yvelle okay with witnessing me like this? Like, um, exhibitionism should be consensual.’ Too late, he realised what he’d implied, and wanted to run and hide. He put his hands over his mouth and nose, pushing up his glasses a little, closing his eyes tightly. Oh god. Oh god. This was the first time he’d ever let slip to a medical professional he had a medical kink, oh god. His life was over.

Simon didn’t say anything, and the grandfather clock in the hallway was still ticking peacefully. Eventually, Nicholas had to open his eyes, and look at something; he couldn’t look up, though, he settled for looking at Simon’s hands, before seeing movement, and realising… _Simon had a tail!_ It wasn’t as long as Doctor Kildaire’s, but it was black, and looked like it should be dripping, but wasn’t. It was coiling back and forth, like a pendulum. Nicholas wondered what that meant. Did it mean the same thing as when other animals did it?

‘It should be consensual, and they would agree with you. But they aren’t people to force themselves to suffer something they don’t want, either, don’t worry.’ _You are the only one here who might do that_ , Simon added, silently, reminding himself as much as anything. Kildaire had told them all they had to take care to teach and remind new patients that “no” was an option.

Nicholas nodded, still embarrassed, but more fascinated with it, wanting to really get all the way through it. It was his most avoided feeling, and he realised he’d sort of fetishized it, because of that. Which was funny, in a way.

If nobody objected to seeing him like this, if nobody objected to his experiencing of humiliation, then… was _he_ still objecting to it? He thought on that, and was glad for Simon allowing him time.

The idea of _Simon_ witnessing him undignified was scary, but why? He feared Simon judging him, because that was the only thing to fear. _How long have I had a fear of judgement?_ He wondered. His ex had been so constantly, loudly obsessed with it, he must have internalised it over the years. Immediately, he hated this, and wanted to get rid of it. He’d _never_ worried about what people thought of him, before his ex! He straightened up, and took a step toward the dining room, purposely focussing on the shifting of the huge plug inside him, the way his belly was full and pushed out, the feeling of the soft and silky chiffon on his skin, the warm tickle of the marabou.

Simon walked with him, and they went into the dining room together. Jasper and Yvelle were not even there, and Nicholas laughed at that—he’d been expecting them to be there, had just assumed they would be.

‘Here,’ Simon said, walking over to one of the chairs around the circular table. When Nicholas walked over to it, he saw it had a cutout, so the plug wouldn’t be bent or pushed against him. He had to throw a leg over, which shifted the plug and stretched his ass a bit; he couldn’t help himself, and a little noise escaped. But Simon didn’t say anything, and Nicholas was glad, carefully settling down, feeling both more exposed and more comfortable. Simon loaded one of the fine china plates with food, and set it in front of him. There was a pile of steak, vegetables on most of the plate, and the bread plate had a _very_ yummy-looking piece of bread.

Simon sat down next to him. ‘Eat up,’ he said, softly, and then, once Nicholas had begun eating, dared, ‘We want you nice and plump.’

He saw Nicholas squirm against his chair, felt his arousal spike upward sharply, and so he continued. ‘That’s it,’ Simon said, after a bite. ‘Good boy,’ after the next one, and on and on, every single bite garnering praise, and at some point, around the time Nicholas was halfway through the plate, _Simon touched him_. It was just a little touch, a hand warmly on his back—but it had been so long since Nicholas had been touched by anybody that he set down his fork as tears sprung to his eyes, and he began to cry, feeling stupid for doing so, but unable to help himself. Simon actually hugged him, and that just made Nicholas cry harder; but Simon didn’t push him away, just held him. Held him, like they were just two people in the world, doing the natural thing that people did when one of them was distressed and non-verbally calling for help.

Nicholas felt angry at all the denial in the world of such a necessary thing, and he felt relieved and grateful at the same time to _be_ touched, and he felt guilty for reacting so hugely and needing touch at all, and he felt grief at being reminded that the last time someone held him, it was his ex; and he cried, overwhelmed by all of it. And Simon held him, rocking him gently, not telling him anything, not trying to get him to stop, not offering him sedatives—just holding him, rubbing his back, and letting him have space to actually express emotions.

Nicholas felt better, when he was done; he always felt better, after a cry. Especially if someone actually validated he was distressed, by offering comfort that did not come with any strings attached.

‘Thank you,’ he said, thickly, and Simon offered him a white handkerchief, and Nicholas continued eating, Simon stroking his back.

‘Take as long as you need, Nicholas,’ Simon said, still using his shadowed voice, just a little. It was clear Nicholas was at the threshold of accepting the nature of things. ‘But I want your belly stretched, and taut, and _full_.’

Nicholas made a soft noise in his throat, as he swallowed. His cheeks and lips were flushed, and Simon could smell his arousal, knew it was wetting the velvet upholstery of the dining chair, would leave a dark spot in the crimson fabric.

‘ _Good **boy**_ , Nicholas,’ Simon said, when Nicholas had finally finished. Nicholas felt like it had taken forever, but when he checked his watch, it had only taken an hour. Usually he bolted his food, he realised, used to fifteen-minute lunch breaks, maybe half an hour if he was lucky. Eating continuously for an entire hour felt… it felt luxurious. It felt, Nicholas mused, _sinful_. Using that word felt so _delicious_.

‘Now that we’ve filled your stomach, it’s time to stretch your clit.’

Nicholas let himself make a noise, at that, though he was still a little scared. Simon sensed it, and got up. ‘Come along, Nicholas.’

Nicholas followed, feeling warm and sedate from his meal, more and more comfortable the more openly kinky this whole situation got. He let himself really enjoy the lade inside him now, let himself enjoy the squish-squish of the plug inside-outside his arse, the exhibitionist giddiness, all of it.

Gods, they were going to stretch his clit! That was something he’d wanted to do for ages, but he’d never had the equipment. Simon led him into a small room with a spooky-looking frame on it, and shut the door. Nicholas was out of his negligée and already trying to climb into it when Simon turned from locking the door, and Simon smirked.

‘My, we _are_ eager for the demon doctors to do wicked things to our genitals.’

‘Yes _sir!’_ Nicholas said, finally figuring the frame out, and settling in. It held his legs open, and held him upright, but he wasn’t bearing any of his own weight on his feet.

‘This is the posture frame,’ Simon said, beginning to buckle the straps. ‘You’ll be in here for an hour. Given the state of your slouch, you’ll start to hurt, because your muscles are so atrophied. We’ll be putting you in here every day, until you get stronger.’ He locked Nicholas in.

‘Oooh, torture for my own good. I like your style!’

‘Mouthy,’ Simon said fondly, kneeling down with the box of clamps and weighs, using a headlamp and gloves to gently pull down that chubby clitoral hood, and hold up clamps until he found the right size (only two tries), screwing it tight. ‘Tell me when you can’t stand the pain, I’ll go slowly.’

He got a bit tighter than he thought he would, before Nicholas asked him to stop, and let go, flicking the clamp back and forth a few times to see if it had a good grip, or if it would fall off. Nicholas made soft noises in his throat, at the sensation, and his fattened clit twitched, futilely trying to draw away from the sensation, unable to. Simon’s mouth watered, seeing it like this, and he selected the smallest weight, clipping it on, before standing up again.

‘How do you feel, Nicholas?’ he asked, so gently; but it had a sinister air, now that Nicholas had openly acknowledged the medical setting was mere role-play, for the demons.

‘Hn,’ Nicholas said. ‘Wh…what’s this supposed to help, again, Nurse?’ he asked, and Simon took the signal.

‘Your clitorial hood is constricting your clitoris far too much to be safe, we _must_ stretch it out manually. This treatment is the first step. When the hour is up, I’ll apply some salve to help with elasticity, and we can do a little bit of your training.’

‘Training?’ Nicholas asked, and nearly moaned at the wicked, _evil_ delight that flashed in Simon’s smile, before it was smoothed over, gone, replaced by bland professionalism.

‘Of course,’ Simon said. ‘Doctor Kildaire thinks you should undergo the same training as Rowena—altered to suit your body, of course—and his first step is for us to start basic capacity training. We’ll be using silicone eggs about the size of a peacock egg, and you’ll be practising both taking them and laying them. We’ll progress to larger ones, until you’re at full-sized eggs.’

‘How… how big is that?’ Nicholas asked, the weight on his clit, the frame, the way Simon’s tail was out, his scleras had gone dark, making this so much easier….

Simon pulled one of the size six eggs out of a drawer. ‘The size of an ostrich egg,’ he said, savouring the wide, terrified look in Nicholas’ eyes, even as his pupils dilated, and Simon felt his arousal. He _wanted_ this, Simon thought with bliss. He wanted this, truly!

‘And… how does the training help me?’

‘Well, occupation is the surest way to feel positively,’ Simon said, toying with the egg as he spoke, ‘And there’s also the matter of your pelvic floor muscles being atrophied. We need to exercise them, make them stronger, and loosen the tension.’

‘Oh,’ Nicholas said, loving this. Making up medical reasons he needed kinky things done to him was _so_ his jam, and Simon was great at it. ‘And the enemas, do those help relax my muscles too?’

‘Yes, the serum is to help tone the smooth muscle, and loosen the anus. Tense your cunt for me, Nicholas, I want to see if you can lift the weight. Hold as long as you can.’

Nicholas almost came—the one order he craved, the first one he’d ever fantasised about getting, and someone—someone in _real life_ —had just done it for the first time. He tensed, but couldn’t hold it at all, couldn’t even get the weight halfway up, before his body gave out.

‘Good. Again.’

Simon kept doing that, Nicholas didn’t know how long, until Nicholas couldn’t even tense anymore, his muscles worked to failure, the weight swinging gently, and his cunt dripping with unanswered arousal. He felt weak, and shaky, and that itself was so, so hot. ‘H-how long is left?’ Nicholas asked.

‘Forty-five minutes.’

Nicholas groaned, reading his head on the frame. ‘I’m gonna diiiiiie,’ he moaned. Simon gave a soft chuckle.

‘This _is_ torture,’ Simon said mildly, and started to chat with him, distract him with this and that. Nicholas was grateful, because his body really did hurt all over, and he didn’t _like_ it, he didn’t like it but he wanted to keep doing, he knew it would eventually make him stronger. But oh, god, it _hurt_.

_Just get through this, and when this is over, you can do—no, you’re being **forced** to do—ovi. You can do this, Nicholas…._

Finally, finally, the hour was over, and Simon was unlocking Nicholas from the frame, catching him when he collapsed, gently laying him down on the bed nearby, spreading his shaking thighs and gently undoing the clamp, and rubbing Nicholas’ clit with something that started off soothing the pain, before Nicholas felt it flushing him, warming his clit, and then the taut, maddening feeling of being swollen full, and big.

‘ _Gorgeous_ …’ Simon murmured, stroking Nicholas, who gave a shaky sigh at the pleasure after all the pain wracking his muscles. ‘Ohhh, I know, precious, but I’m about to pump you full of eggs, and make you do even _more_ work….’

He pulled open a door in the wall by the bed, and pulled out a flexible silicone ovipositor, very thick, and injected Nicholas’ cervix with three full syringes of lube, before spreading more around Nicholas’ entrance, and pushing the ovipositor in, and in, and Nicholas gasped as Simon pushed it past his cervix, and stopped, Simon stroking his clit through his hood, watching as Nicholas’ cunt twitched around the invader.

Then, when he felt Nicholas just barely get used to it, Simon turned the Machine on. Instantly, eggs started to bulge along the tube, not very widely spaced, and Nicholas began to feel the first one, pushing him even wider, almost painfully, as the egg worked its way down the ovipositor, bulging inside his passage, his anticipation mounting as it got closer and closer, slowly, to his cervix, which surely couldn’t stretch that—far—Nicholas’ whine mounted to a wail as he felt the egg push, and push, and _push_ , and then pop inside. All the while, Simon calmly stroked his clit in little gentle circles, eagerly watching as the Machine pumped Nicholas full, the eggs backed up from how long it took for them to get through Nicholas’ cervix, not giving him any reprieve, his belly starting to push out even more, lower and firmer than any enema or meal could. Oh, but Nicholas’ cervix was not _normal_ now, it could be stretched, just like any ring of _muscle_ ….

‘You were _made_ for this,’ Simon purred, tail curling in pleasure as he felt Nicholas’ mingled pleasure and distress. ‘Oh, _Nicholas_ , you are so _gorgeous_ , wailing but laying there so still, not struggling—you _like this_ , don’t you?’ he was in full Voice now, low and honeyed and syrupy, as he leaned over Nicholas, his tail now stroking that fat clit, the tip writhing beneath the hood, as Simon loomed over Nicholas, leaning down to be face to face. ‘You _want_ to be filled with eggs, don’t you? You want to strain to push them out, only to have to start all over again when the last one is laid? Oh, I am going to _exhaust_ you, Nicholas.’ He stroked Nicholas’ growing belly. ‘In, and out, and in, and out…’ he lilted to himself. ‘You and Rowena, one full, one empty, connected by a tube just like this one, having to lay into one another, for eternity….’

Nicholas didn’t know when he’d started coming, but he felt like he could keep coming forever, and ever, and he put his hands on his belly, feeling the eggs, feeling the way his belly was growing, growing, forced to take these in, unable to get them out until Simon wished. The helplessness was so relaxing—he didn’t have to worry about saying yes, because that had already been decided.

Simon stopped the machine when Nicholas’ belly started reaching a shiny tautness, rubbed him with lotion, and pulled the ovipositor out, manually shoving the last few eggs that had been left in it into Nicholas, the boy crying out with each one.

‘I know,’ Push. ‘I know,’ Push. ‘But we’ve got to,’ Push. ‘Get all of them,’ Push. ‘ _In_ ,’ Push.

Nicholas pussy was gaping wide, and Simon flicked the clit one last time, before saying. ‘Now, start pushing them out.’

‘Wh…while laying on my back like this?’

The temptation to say yes was so, so hard to resist. ‘No, get on your knees.’

Nicholas shivered, grateful the façade was being at least vaguely maintained—he liked the façade—and managed to get himself onto his knees, stopping to really explore the hardness of his belly, the feeling of the eggs. ‘Oh, gods…’ he murmured. ‘I’m full of eggs. I’m really full of eggs. In my womb. And I’m gonna lay them. Oh god.’

‘ _Push_ ,’ Simon said, and Nicholas moaned, obeying. It was hard, he was dripping with sweat by the time he managed to feel the first one pop into his vagina again.

Simon was merciless in driving him on, and Nicholas _loved it_ , loved every minute of Simon’s coaching, of being told he was gorgeous and helpless and _made for this;_ and all the things Simon wanted to do to him, stuff him full and spread him out and make it as hard as possible to lay the eggs, up to and including manually holding them at his entrance, and pushing them back in while Nicholas was trying to push them out. After struggling to lay a few of them, Simon ordered him on his side for a few more, and then onto his back, locking him in stirrups.

Nicholas _cried_ , begged to be let go, his body feeling shaky and weak, his skin damp all over. But Simon didn’t give in.

‘Push,’ he said, smiling oh-so-gently. He knew Nicholas’ body was at muscle failure, but he liked the torment of Nicholas trying so hard. He watched the egg struggle, the cervix spreading not quite big enough, each time Nicholas relaxed, the egg slipping back inside.

Nicholas knew he was being pushed to his limits, and possibly past them. Simon had been pushing his limits all afternoon, and he was finding that, coming from a beautiful, English-accented man, whom he knew was also not human, he didn’t mind at all—he _loved_ it, and was all sensation now, not thinking about anything, not controlling anything, not holding back his screams and crying and begging, pushed farther and farther, until he was coming, Simon making a low, smooth purr of a noise.

‘You wicked boy, coming before you’re done.’ He pushed the ovipositor back in, and turned the machine back on.

Oh, _god_ , this was _amazing_. Nicholas felt like all of him was trembling, weak, and still coming despite having done so multiple times, and still hungry for more. His cervix felt loose and soft and offered no resistance as the eggs he had managed to get out were replaced, and more, his belly straining so tight, and then tighter, as some kind of liquid was pumped in afterwards, smoothing the bumpy texture of the eggs out into something that was smoother. Nicholas could hardly breathe, his hands on his belly feeling it heave and grow, and grow… and just when he thought he would surely burst, the ovipositor was slid, slowly, from his cervix, and the liquid kept flowing, filling his cunt, stretching the walls out, pressing his clit so much he started to scream, not wanting to come again, not wanting to pulse, not wanting to burst, surely he’d burst if his muscles tensed _at all_ …. It was the perfect way to torture him, and Nicholas felt like he was ascending to another plane of existence, or whatever the opposite of dying was.

Simon filled the boy’s cunt with the viscous solution that would cure to a plug that could not be pushed out, and gorged on Nicholas’ pleasure, woozy and dizzy and overwhelmed. He hadn’t passed out yet, however.

‘Full enough?’ Simon asked, with a wicked smile, as he retracted the ovipositor back into the wall, and surveyed his handiwork. Nicholas’ cunt was spread wide open, to its limit, and Simon could see that his cervix was too, the plug being perfectly clear as it was. Simon’s tail was still toying with Nicholas’ clit, which was fat and flush, larger than a cherry, red and shiny with growth, probably aching. And Nicholas anus was the only one without any new stimulation, with relief; but they weren’t to touch that, Simon knew, not until all of the concentrated serum had absorbed.

And that _belly, **oh** , _that _belly_ , looking so huge… Simon stroked it lovingly, falling in love with Nicholas a little bit. ‘Oh, _Nicholas_ …’ he sighed. ‘My good little chicken, taking _so much_ ….’

Nicholas made a little happy whimper, somewhere behind that pregnant, egg-laden belly. ‘When do I get more enema?’ he asked weakly.

Simon came, just from hearing that. It startled him, but he didn’t let on—concubi didn’t ejaculate unless they meant to—and kept stroking that belly with both hands, unable to resist the urge to kiss it any longer, leaning forward and pressing his plush lips to the reddened surface. The serum Simon had overloaded into Nicholas’ system had made it so his belly was able to stretch to a full-term pregnant size over the course of the hour Simon had filled Nicholas with eggs, made him try and lay them, and then _stuffed_ him full of eggs, and more of the ultra-concentrate of serum, usually not considered safe for someone at Nicholas’ stage.

But oh, Simon thought, caressing that belly, resting his cheek against it, who could disapprove? Nicholas’ body had taken it, had stretched beautifully, and _without training_. Who _knew_ what size he could get to after as much training as, say, Rowena had received?

‘ _My_ good boy,’ Simon said, possessive hiss in his voice.

 


	6. Rowena's Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter jumps to when Rowena came to be under the influence of Dr Kildaire.

The way Rowena had come to be at the Academy (as she knew it) was rather different than Nicholas’, for Rowena was from a very different time and place.

Rowena was an only child, and very sweet-tempered, and obliging, so that nobody who took care of her ever complained of anything the child might do. The worst she ever did was be over-fond of the idea of marriage, which, as anybody from Rowena’s time might tell you, is not so very bad a thing for a young lady to be fixated on.

From the start, Rowena was given a governess by the name of Manderly, who happened to be from an agency that had headquarters that were quite far downstairs. Governess Manderly taught Rowena the arts of embroidery, sewing, music, and other such things. Rowena’s health was also presided over by her governess; and as she grew older, her bosom blossoming into a heavy fullness, two or three little problems became apparent:

  1. Her monthly cycle was not very forthcoming
  2. Her bosoms hurt, and were far too aged-looking for her years
  3. She had such difficulty with voiding her bowels that her appetite was upset by it, and the rest of her figure suffered.



These problems, Governess Manderly wrote to her colleague in the agency about, and a place was made for Rowena at the Kildaire Academy For Special Young Ladies. Rowena’s family were elated, for the school was very prestigious, and the young ladies who went there often married foreign princes and dignitaries—it was a very _good_ finishing school. Governess Manderly was so very _kind_ , using her connexions to get Rowena a place there. Rowena was excited as well, though a little nervous, too. Well! and who wouldn’t be?

Her Governess took her there, and walked her inside, and it was a lovely place, a large manor in the Queen Anne style painted all in beautiful pink and white, with lovely cherry trees dripping lovely pink petals all over the lawn and the path. There were all manner of flowers everywhere, chiefly fragrant ones; and the smell was heavenly. Rowena could hear the sound of girls at play, somewhere in the distance, and when she looked for them, she saw some flat lawns a ways away, that had been set up to play badminton.

The headmaster of this grand place was Dr Kildaire, Governess’ colleague, who shared her very tall, statuesque beauty, and also had the same rich red hair, streaked white at the temples only. He wore a linen suit, on account of the warm summer, and kissed Rowena’s hand, bringing her inside the house, which was just as beautiful as the outside, all in lovely calming greens and pinks and creamy, warm white. Rowena was shown her room, and then Governess Manderly and Dr Kildaire stepped into the hall for a moment, speaking in low voices. When the door opened again, Dr Kildaire was leading a nurse with him. She was very beautiful, and had a very generous, plump figure, and her hair was a very dark gold that was almost, but not quite, brown. Her eyes were the sort of blue that is very dark and looks almost violet, and Rowena found herself thinking they were the prettiest eyes that she had ever seen.

‘This is Fawn, Rowena,’ Dr Kildaire said. ‘She is to be your nurse and your maid, while you are here.’

Fawn smiled, and Rowena liked her very much immediately; it was the kind of smile that put you at ease. ‘I have been looking forward to meeting you, Rowena.’

Dr Kildaire bowed to them both, and shut the door softly as he left them. Fawn sat down, her pale grey skirt settling around her. She took Rowena’s hand in both of hers. ‘I know you are very nervous,’ she said, and Rowena did not argue, ‘but that is perfectly understandable, and nobody shall fault you for it.’

Rowena was surprised to hear this. ‘Really?’ she could not help but say. Fawn patted her hand.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘really really.’

Rowena giggled at the curious turn of phrase.

‘Now,’ said Fawn, standing up, ‘you are to begin immediately, but it is quite fun, the first thing. We shall need to undress you, and give you a bath.’

Rowena did not mind this at all, as it had been a very long journey, and soon the nicest, warmest bath she had ever had was being drawn, and Fawn put some oils scented of lavender in the water, and it was so very relaxing, especially with Fawn massaging her head as she gently washed Rowena’s hair, that Rowena fell quite to dozing. She felt Fawn’s gentle, soft hands running a flannel over every inch of her, lingering on her bosom, and soon, Rowena fell even deeper into a comfortable stupor.

Fawn gently massaged Rowena’s breasts one by one, drizzling them with the special oil that would prepare them to be filled, and pulled down the Machine’s nozzles, which were already fitted upon the small, almost microscopic nozzles. A little application of concentrated enlargement serum and the nipple openings were just visible, just large enough to insert the nozzles. Fawn depressed a button, and the Machine extended the tendrils deep into Rowena’s lactation ducts, gently opening them up. When they were fully extended, the Machine began to slowly emit a particular energy from the conductive tendrils, that stimulated the milk ducts to begin enlarging the breasts quite naturally, picking up where Nature left off. The growth soon softened and smoothed the tissue, and the skin began to grow smooth, then firm, then taut, whereupon the Machine stopped, and withdrew the tendrils, and Fawn gently pulled the nozzles free, massaging the nipples for some time afterward, adding more serum.

Keeping an eye on her dozing charge, Fawn gently reached down to part her legs, which had more than enough room to spread quite widely, and soon, Rowena’s legs were hanging over the edge of the tub, her pussy and more quite wonderfully exposed, and her breasts floating in the water, her body quite unaware of their increased volume and weight. Fawn pulled a different part of the Machine down between Rowena’s legs, and slid the nozzle into her anus slowly and gently, so that she might not notice, with the warmth of the water, and the slight relaxation agent Fawn had added to it. The nozzle seated without the slightest noise from Rowena, and Fawn turned the Machine on. From deep within the house’s walls, something clanked softly, and a very special solution began to flow into Rowena, Fawn knowing from the doctor’s instructions that Rowena was to be filled a full gallon, no matter what.

Given the warmth of the bathwater, and the warmth of the solution being pumped slowly into her, and the relaxation buzzing through her, Rowena thought she was dreaming about the fullness in her lower body, about the fullness in her bosoms, and so she felt quite unembarrassed about the way her little pussy reacted, flushing and wettening, her clit making regular spasms of pleasure at the feeling. For, in truth, Rowena was such a plump little girl, and took to her Governess’ training her to hold her bladder for long periods so well, because she liked being full, and especially being overfull. She liked the tight, overwhelmed feeling, liked being at the edge of losing control of holding it all in; and so, you see, the enormous lade—much, much larger than the quart she got at home—felt wonderfully too much, rather like a dream ought to.

Fawn watched her belly grow, and grow, with pleasure, watched her little clit (it was _so_ little!) spasm and spasm, and when the Machine was done, one of the marvellous expanding plugs came after the last of the liquid, and entered through the nozzle, to stick fast in Rowena’s body, halfway in and halfway out, and begin to expand as soon as Fawn removed the nozzle. It grew slowly, gorging itself on the bathwater, slowly and gently stretching Rowena’s anus wider, and wider, until it was a full two inches wide, the ring of it smooth and taut. Fawn was sure Rowena was feeling quite good, and kept the bathwater warm for the rest of the enema’s length, stroking the smooth swell of Rowena’s lower belly, admiring how pregnant she looked, and looking forward to her training to be a proper wife, which included play-pregnancy and exercising those muscles that only get used in labour.

Fawn let Rowena wake naturally—and Rowena did not disappoint. Just as Manderly had told them, she was quite naturally helpless and accepting of any situation she found herself in, completely trusting of any authority.

‘Am I to empty myself?’ she asked.

‘No,’ Fawn said, ‘we are to fill our belly with luncheon, and then we may empty ourself, upon which time,’ she said, helping Rowena from the bath and drying her with a soft Turkish towel, ‘we will begin treatment for your womanhood, which is unnaturally small for someone your age.’

‘I see,’ said Rowena, cheerfully, and submitted to Fawn dressing her in a loose chemise of quite transparent silk in a very fetching peony pink, over which Fawn put a tea-gown of very fine lace. Rowena’s breasts were quite visible, and her nipples pressed quite firmly upon the fabric. She blushed, but did not say anything at all to protest (for, secretly, she liked the exposure), and sat down, obediently eating everything she was told: a bowl of spring greens with a vinaigrette, a sandwich of finely-sliced ham with sharp cheddar cheese, lettuce, and dressing on the softest, freshest bread Rowena had ever tasted; a strawberry tart with a generous helping of whipped cream, and a large slice of rich gateau chocolat, as well as a cup of very heavy cream to drink. It was the richest, most luxurious meal Rowena had ever had in her life (coming form modest means as her family did), and she would have eaten it all even if she had not been told, for it was all so very good.

‘Oh, Miss Fawn, will all meals be like this? I do not know if I can finish,’ she said, upon taking a sip of the cream, thinking it was ordinary milk.

‘I believe you can,’ Fawn said, encouragingly. ‘We are to teach you not to think at all or worry about food, any longer. That is not something you need worry about, ever again.’

 _Ever again_! Rowena had not realised how weary such worrying made her, until the thought of never doing it presented itself. She finished everything, after that, pushing on slowly but surely, feeling pleasure as her stomach stretched outward, taut.

‘We must stretch your belly out,’ Fawn said, after Rowena finished every crumb. ‘It needs the exercise.’

Rowena giggled, and put her hands upon her belly, fascinated at how full she was, how it felt so tight, and yet so comfortable. Safe. Her belly was huge now, and she loved the sight of it beneath her skirts, loved the feeling of that soft silk sliding against her taut skin.

‘You shall have such beautiful stretch-marks,’ Fawn said. ‘Now,’ she continued, knowing the plug was suitably dissolved, and Rowena feeling it so. ‘Go and empty, and we shall begin treatment after.’

When Rowena came back, she felt delightfully relaxed, and Fawn directed her to lay down on her back, and spread her legs, whereupon the nurse shaved her little pussy quite bare, and coated it with something slick and slippery, that felt very warm, and began to tingle. Fawn watched as Rowena’s pussy began to tense in reaction, her little clit (so very little!) twitching quite fast in distress, her entire pussy, from labia to clit, turning very bright pink.

‘Gooood girl, Rowena, good,’ Fawn purred, her tail curling with pleasure beneath her skirts; for she knew what Rowena must be feeling, with the cinnamon tingle of the serum—yet she made no noise, only this involuntary motion to belie it. How delicious she was! Fawn pulled down the suction part of the Machine, affixing a cup of the proper size and shape to cover Rowena’s entire pussy, from mons to perineum, and turned it on, the suction pulling Rowena’s little pussy outward, fluffing it and drawing more and more blood until it was red, and then nearly violet, and then Fawn set it to pump, releasing the pressure and then suctioning it back over and over, for an hour, and then removing it.

‘Good girl, Rowena, that’s looking very good. Now, just one last little injection to help things along…’ Fawn parted Rowena’s swollen labia, pinched her swollen clit (still so little!) between two fingers, carefully sliding a needle down its centre, slowly injecting it with the tiniest amount of concentrated expansion serum. It began to swell immediately, quickly growing taut, and shiny, and yet was still hidden by Rowena’s swollen labia. Still, Fawn knew there would be many more injections in the coming months—one every single day, in fact, until Rowena’s clit was big enough to attach to a suction tube, and then the _real_ growth could begin.

Fawn patted the shiny pussy fondly. ‘Just stay there until teatime, dear; it’s time for your nap.’ And she left Rowena there, shutting the door softly behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note: Originally, Rowena's nurse was named Helisma; she is now named Fawn, owing to the fact that I met someone with a name too similar to Helisma to keep that name for a character.


	7. Punishments and Funishments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the present in this chapter.

‘That was a very naughty thing you did, Simon.’

Simon whimpered around the gag holding his mouth open. Dr Kildaire paced around him in the darkened lower chamber of the Academy, the darkness only lit by the faintest shimmer from the water, thrown to undulate on the stone walls. It was warm, and damp, and smelled faintly of chlorine rather than mould (demons hated mould).

‘I could forgive when you filled him a little past his limit with the enema, but to push him into mid-stage bonding like that, and on his second day… I’m afraid you must be punished, Simon, in accordance with your transgression.’

Simon squirmed, but his superior’s bindings held him tightly where he was, in a spider-web of ropes and chains stretched taut, holding Simon in mid-air over the deep pool where something shifted and lurked in the dark water, creating the flashes of bioluminescent red.

Simon’s legs were tied spread, his cock forced to stay hard with a ring locked tightly around its base (not that he needed any help being aroused, knowing what was coming), and he was entirely exposed to whatever was below him, in the water.

Kildaire gently played three notes on a captain’s whistle, and tentacles slid slowly out of the water, probing upward, finding Simon with their black coils and quickly finding Simon’s orifices, pushing at them with delighted coos that echoed off the stones, the flashes and streaks giving terrible hint to its great size, beneath the water. Simon felt his pussy stuffed with a larger one, and a second and third found his mouth and arse in short order, and then, the smaller ones would take a little time to find his cock, but they would—Simon’s scream was muffled as they found his urethra, sounding it, before engulfing it entirely, the amorphous flesh of the tentacle demon slowly enveloping him from cock outward, upward, as the tentacles pushed deep, deeper, writhing….

Simon knew the true torture was all this pleasure, all of this pleasure and _he couldn’t come_.

-

When Nicholas woke up from his afternoon nap, the sofa had changed. Now, as well as Rowena’s clit, sticking straight up, as before, there were also her tits, full and taut and the areolae puffed out like an overfilled balloon, her nipples plugged with bright pink. When he got closer, he saw her entire pussy was exposed, and her vulva was enormous and puffy like it had been suctioned and maybe infused with saline before being locked in. Her belly was not full, but the cut out that freed her tits also did the same to her belly. It was a wonderful belly, soft and with a line of hair down the middle. There was a note pinned to the actual cushions of the sofa, in beautiful handwriting Nicholas had to take a moment to read.

> _Please feel free to fuck and fill your new toy as you please with whatever non-porous objects are in your room. Just remember to use plenty of lubricant. Nothing you do will hurt her, be as rough as you like._

Nicholas looked at the legs of the sofa, and saw they were on fancy brass wheels. He grinned, perhaps crookedly, and started to look around his room, realising several new ‘sculptures’ were there, along with things he’d never realised were unusually-phallic, before. His own belly was empty, but he went to the mirror and saw how big his clit already was, still exposed by the spreader he was wearing.

First… he wanted to play with those titties, while fucking that huge, huge, beautiful clit. _Fuck_ , she must feel amazing, Nicholas thought as he pulled some gloves on, spread lube on her clit, taking it in both hands and stroking up and down. He heard her muffled noises, and definitely liked that. He swung a leg over the sofa, and this time, he was a little rough as he grabbed her clit and pushed it up, slid his cunt up along it until he could reach a hand down and bend the tip so it went into his cunt, and he slid back down on it, biting his lip when the tip reached his new cervix and it was a little sore going in, but it hurt soooo good. She made little squeaky noises, her belly fluttering, tits heaving, as he fully seated with her inside him, his fattened clit pressing on her naked mons.

_And now for those titties_ , he thought to himself, and took her nipples in both hands, _pulling_ as he started to bounce, and then found a rhythm he liked, fucking himself and enjoying her muffled moans, halfway through pausing and taking hold of the ring at the base of the nipple plug, and pulling it free rather fast, but not quite as fast as possible. The way her clit twitched inside of him, the way her moan shaped into what was clearly a ‘ _yes!’_ , meant he _yanked_ the second one out. They were surprisingly long, and the opening of her nipples gaped when they were gone.

That was when Nicholas got an idea.

An awful idea.

A terrible, awful idea.

He got off her clit, even though it was an effort, he’d been almost about to come, and dragged the sofa over until it was next to the tub faucet, and covered the hand-shower head in lubricant, before, slowly, turning on the water, and making sure it was body temperature, before turning it to the gentlest single-jet spray, and turning the water off, then taking one of her nipples in his hand, and slowly, gently, sliding the hand-shower inside her breast, pushing it in, and in, until just the hose was emerging from her nipple. He let her anticipate for a few moments, before slowly turning the tap on again.

She began to moan, loudly at first, but as her tit ballooned out in size she began to get softer, and softer, and Nicholas recognised that—he was like that, getting quieter rather than louder, the more aroused he was. When he couldn’t hear her at all, but could see her pussy dripping, her clit twitching, he turned the water off, and gripped her nipple quite firmly, squeezing as he pulled the hand-shower out, holding her nipple tightly closed as he picked up the plug from where he’d stashed them in the tub, and pushed one back down her nipple, sealing her up. He did the same to her other tit, and then changed his gloves, and went around to look at her pussy, which was even bigger and more flushed than before, gaping.

This was terrible, Nicholas thought, unable to keep from smiling to himself, and laughing his Villain laugh, as he slid first fingers inside her pussy, and then realised she was so loose he could fist her right away, and did so, reaching deep, feeling her cervix just as soft and gaping as her pussy, and pushing past it, feeling inside her and moving around, turning himself on imagining how that must feel, as she made little guttural squeaks.

‘Is that _good_ , Rowena?’ he heard himself say, in a voice that surprised him. ‘You’re so _loose_ , so _exposed_ —shall we stuff you up, bit by bit? …Shall I make _very_ sure you’re hydrated?’ he asked, the idea just falling off his tongue.

_Uh-huh_ , came the moan. Nicholas pulled his arm out of her, and used the hand-shower to rinse off, then turned it off, pushed it deep, deeper, and turned the water on, slowly, watching her belly with eager anticipation, as he held the hand-shower inside her soft pussy. It took some time, and he turned the water on harder twice more, before he started to see her belly spread outward. He stroked it and even kissed it, heaping her with praise, and filled her until she looked pregnant, before realising he had no plug ready. He pushed the hand-shower deeper, until it stayed on its own, and left her there, filling, and went hunting for something that was thicker than his arm, because even buried in her to almost his elbow, he didn’t feel squeezed.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to talk to me more, I have set up a discord channel for my fans [here](https://discord.gg/uVJR3ad)! Come say hi!


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